Existentialism
by borderfame-sabrestar
Summary: Fred/Hermione. Every action has it's consequence. Fred is struggling with his feelings for Hermione, and because of what he has done, she can't help but fall for him too. Even mistakes shape who we are...
1. Chapter 1

****So this is a new story I thought up while listening to the song 'Existentialism on Prom Night' by the Straylight Run, and I kind of got carried away... I am still writing the Other Malfoy but this is just a small one. It won't be very long (at least not when compared to my other story...) So I hope you like, enjoy :)

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><p><strong>Existentialism – Chapter One<strong>

_Fred/Hermione_

She was asleep. He could see the dip and curve of her waist and hip as she lay on her side, the only movement the slightest movement of her upper body as she breathed, slowly and evenly. She looked quite different when she was sleeping. She often had her eyebrows drawn together in an inquisitive frown, or when she was studying – but sometimes, when she was relaxed and calm, she would look like this, the way she looked when she was asleep. Perfectly content, calm, beautiful.

He longed to reach out and touch her cheek, feel the warmth of her skin. He had been doing this for so many nights now, just wandering up to her dormitory and watching her sleep. He hadn't been able to during the term, but holidays meant that she was the only one here. And he would sit for sometimes an hour, maybe more, and watch her.

He had been struggling for the last twenty four hours about whether he was going to return tonight. He didn't want to do anything stupid – but he didn't want to _not_ be here. In fact, here was the place he wanted to be, more than anywhere else.

Running a worried hand through his hair, he watched her sleeping. And then – seemingly out of nowhere – the thunder began.

He felt the blood freeze in his veins as the storm's mighty orchestra rumbled through the room, and for a moment he considered running out and dashing back to his dormitory, but he wanted to stay because she was there. He decided he would go, and he stood up to leave, but in that very moment, her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened, her hand gripped the sheets as another crash of thunder sounded, and it took her a moment to realise he was there.

She looked out of the window beside her bed, and she looked a little dazed and confused – but when the second crash of thunder sounded, she jumped in fright. She moved to roll over, grasping her sheets, and that was when she spotted him.

While the thunder had frightened her enough to make her jump, Fred's presence only made her eyes widen slightly, and she gripped the sheets and pulled them higher up her chest, over the modest singlet she was wearing, and she said in a surprised, slightly rasping voice, "Fred?"

Fred forced the shock out of his system, and he put on a brave face. He gave her a small, slightly sheepish smile, and he said, "Hey, 'Mione." He noted that she'd known he was Fred, and not George – that was interesting.

She rubbed at her dark golden eyes as she said tiredly, "What – what are you doing in here?"

Fred stared at the floor for a second, before he gave a small sigh and said, "I was – watching you."

Hermione frowned, and Fred tried not to smile at her perplexed expression. "Watching me?" she repeated, as she sat up, still holding the sheet to her chest. "Watching me do what?"

"Sleep, of course," Fred replied, as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp flash of lightning and another crash of thunder made her jump, and as the lightning flashed, Fred saw a real fear in her wide eyes, and that was something he'd only seen a few times. Like when she was waiting for Harry to wake up in hospital, the last few hundred times he'd been there…

"Are you alright?" he asked her, taking a step closer to the bed.

When she replied, her voice was much shakier. "I – I don't like storms." He could see she was gripping the sheets tightly in her hand.

Fred, not really knowing what he was doing, moved towards the bed and he said, "Would you – like me to stay a while?"

Hermione looked up at him with a slight frown, and he panicked. He hadn't actually explained properly his purpose for being in her room in the middle of the night. Fred quickly thought of a lie, and he smiled down at her. "Sorry if I'm creeping you out – but I thought you would appreciate the company on a night like this. I heard there was a storm coming."

Hermione's frown eased, and she said, "That's very considerate of you, Fred."

"No need to sound so shocked," Fred replied with a wink. "Come on, shift over."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then she shifted to the side a little, making room for him. Fred sat up, and he was deliberating whether to put his arm around Hermione or not when another flash of lightning and crash of thunder lit up the room and made the floor tremble, and Hermione jumped and her hand automatically latched onto his, holding it so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Fred's eyes widened slightly at the contact, but he made himself relax. "Shh, it's okay," he said quietly, and he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. He felt her rigid shoulders ease slightly as he brought her closer to him, and the shaking subsided.

"I'm sorry Fred," Hermione said with a small, embarrassed laugh. "I – I'm not usually like this."

"I bet you usually are, but you have a tall handsome man to snuggle up against now so it's just that much better." Fred glanced down at her and saw a smile creeping on her lips, and he laughed. She was used to the playful banter from Fred and George, but Fred liked it much better when it was just her and him.

"You are so conceited," Hermione murmured, but she couldn't help laughing along with him. The sound made Fred's heart jump.

Fred noticed the way her body seemed to fit perfectly against his, and he loved the way he could wrap his arm around her small figure. Next to him like this, he could see how small she was.

Another flash of lightning struck, and Fred could feel Hermione's muscles grow tight as she prepared for the thunder. Fred felt a sudden urge to kiss her, to erase the look of fear from her face, replace that scared look in her eyes with one of gentle warmth.

It was only after Fred had quickly tipped her chin upwards with his long fingers, and leaned towards her and gently pressed his lips to hers, that he realised what he had done.

But the thunder crashed, and Hermione didn't jump. She was preoccupied with the kiss, as had been Fred's intention. Her eyes were wide, but she was staring at him, almost in amazement. He moved his lips against hers, and he could feel her gasp, and he watched her eyes droop shut as she relaxed. He moved his hand from her jaw to her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair, and he felt her warm skin.

Their lips moved together slowly, her mouth soft and warm against his, and Fred couldn't believe she was kissing him back. The moment was ruined, however, when another sudden crash of thunder made Hermione's eyes snap open, and she pulled away from him. Fred's lips followed hers, searching to kiss her again but she whispered, "Fred – Fred, stop."

"Hermione, please," Fred mumbled, and he heard the desperation in his voice. "Please –"

"Fred," Hermione's voice was hissing now. "What are you doing?"

Fred stared at her, and he could feel her body pulling away from him, and he suddenly realised it had all gone wrong. She didn't like him, and she wasn't ready for this – he wasn't going to be able to speak with her, he would lose her trust, he would lose her friendship, he would lose everything…

In another decision, which when Fred looked back at later was one of the worst things he had ever done in his life, he whipped his wand out of his pocket and he whispered, "_Repens oblivio._"

The memory charm wiped the last ten minutes from her mind, and he then cast another spell to send her to sleep. Her eyes dropped shut and she fell limp in his arms, totally relaxed. Fred let out a breath he didn't realise he had held, and then the cold panic gripped his insides as he realised what he had done. He had wiped her memory. He had made a mistake and then erased it from her mind…

Fred felt his breathing quicken and he tried to calm himself. It's okay, he thought. He could just forget about this. He'd stop coming to see her at night, and he'd pretend it didn't happen. He'd ask her on a date, he promised himself he would, but now was not the time. He would have to wait…

But as he moved her body to lie her down, he pulled the sheets up to her shoulders and he brushed the hair away from her eyes, he couldn't help but press his lips to hers one last time…


	2. Chapter 2

**Existentialism – Chapter Two**

_Fred/Hermione_

Her eyes opened slowly, eyelids so heavy they dragged lazily, and a grotesque yawn escaped her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut again. She was so tired – she distinctly remembered something having woken her up. But she couldn't remember what it was. She had gone to bed early last night, though, so she didn't know why she felt like she hadn't slept a wink.

Stretching her arms above her head and touching the headboard of her bed, Hermione stretched her body and arched her back, muscles shaking as they she strained them of tiredness. Propping herself up on her elbows, Hermione blinked with great effort to make her eyes focus. The girl's dormitory was empty but for her. It was the holidays, and the other girls had all gone home.

Hermione didn't mind being alone. It was alarmingly quiet, and calm, and she could stay up as late as she wanted to read her books without Lavender complaining about needing a full eight hours of beauty sleep. Hermione often thought to herself that no amount of sleep would help Lavender's case.

But that was mean and Hermione was only really mean when she was really angry, which was surprisingly not as often this year as it had been in previous years. Well, of course she was angry at Ron, and she often called him a number of colourful names, but Harry had drifted a little further than usual this year, and Hermione didn't really have any other people apart from Ron to spend her time with. So she had gotten into a habit of biting her tongue when she wanted to call him incompetent or irrational, or arrogant. Arrogant was one she really wanted to say. But she simply let it go.

Hermione felt another yawn escape, and she felt her heavy muscles pulling back to the bed. Determined not to give in to the temptation, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and pushed the hair back from her face and wandered down the stairs to the common room.

Usually Hermione would not be so casual about the common room, but the only people there were the Weasleys, Harry and Neville, and a few others who Hermione didn't know or care about. She found it was a little bit satisfying to wander around the common room in a plain white singlet and bright blue pyjama pants.

Hermione wandered downstairs, and saw a familiar mop of red hair just above the back of the lounge. She didn't know which twin it was, but she managed a mostly cheery, "Good morning," as she wandered over to the couch, picking up a copy of the _Daily Prophet _from the table.

A pair of cloudy blue eyes peered over the top of the Quidditch magazine he held in his hands, and he dropped it to reveal a friendly half-smile. Hermione didn't know how, but she knew it was Fred. She was able to tell them apart easily now. "Morning, Hermione. Sleep well?" he asked, flicking the page of his magazine.

Hermione shrugged. "Not really."

Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her and he said, "What have I told you about running around with all the boys when you're supposed to be tucked up in bed?"

Hermione managed to suppress a blush but only just. She often felt flustered when either one of the twins started being crude. "Don't be stupid, Fred," she said, adding quickly, "Besides, no boys are that interested."

She tore her eyes away from him and forced herself to stare at the newspaper in her hands, eyes dancing across the headlines but not actually reading the words there. She could see Fred's hands in the edges of her vision – he had such lovely hands. Very long, elegant fingers – like piano hands. Hermione thought he'd be a marvellous piano player. She'd be too embarrassed to say it was because he had lovely hands, not because he was particularly musically talented – and by what Hermione could tell from his singing voice, there was no secret pool of musical talent in this particular Weasley.

She saw him lower the magazine, as he looked at her for a moment, and then he said, "I don't know about that, 'Mione. You might be surprised." She found that Fred was often quite sweet to her when there weren't other people around, and was always genuinely surprised and touched by his kindness.

"Thanks, Fred," she said, looking up at him with a small smile. He returned it before turning back to his magazine, and they settled into a comfortable silence as they both read their respective papers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Existentialism – Chapter Three**

_Fred/Hermione_

It was only about ten minutes later when Hermione placed the _Prophet _back on the table and said she was going to get dressed, so she could go get some breakfast, that Fred allowed himself to sink into the couch, letting out a huge lungful of air head been containing in his chest. His mind was playing so many games on him again, and seeing her this morning wasn't helping to clear the confusing fog in his brain.

Fred was and had been for the past few months harbouring a crush on the curly-haired, button-nosed, curvy bookworm. It had started earlier that year, when they were staying at Grimmauld Place over the summer – he could remember one distinct moment, when Hermione's cat had chewed off the extendable ear when they were eavesdropping on the grownups. Fred had said in a disgruntled murmur, "Hermione, I hate your cat."

And in that moment, Hermione had glanced up and stared at him with big, golden-brown eyes and he felt like he was melting. He had tried to ignore it but he'd never felt like that before. She had looked past George and stared right at him, and he saw her not as his little brother's nerdy, frizzy-haired friend, but as a young beautiful woman who was everything Fred could ever dream of.

And over the course of the term, Fred had increasingly found himself falling further and further for Hermione, and no matter how much he tried to stop he couldn't just ignore those feelings.

His desire and guilt were battling constantly in his brain to figure out what exactly he was going to do about it. His desire longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her, mould his lips to hers, press every inch of their skin together and learn those alluring curves with his greedy hands – he knew everything about her mind, but he had begun to desire _more_, he wanted to find out everything about her mind and her body…

His guilt, however, was what caused all of the headaches. He wanted Hermione, but she was younger, and she was so wonderful and he would corrupt her, and she was Ron's best friend and Ron would murder him…

It was a difficult time for Fred, and seeing Hermione meander across the room in her thin pyjama pants and that white singlet which was riding up and showing the pale skin across her hips, and the way she ran her hand through her hair as she pushed it back from her face – Fred was in torture.

Not just because of the mental image, but because of the memories. And the guilt. Oh Merlin, the guilt… Fred let out a groan, and he covered his face with his hands – and then a voice said, "Something wrong, Freddie?"

Fred didn't jump at the sudden voice, because no matter how hard they tried, the twins could never sneak up on each other. George was a part of Fred, and his voice was no shock to him.

Fred opened his eyes, peering out through his fingers, and he spotted his brother wander over to the couch and sit beside him. George gave him a cheeky grin and said, "C'mon, mate, out with it."

He let out an exasperated sigh, and as he glanced quickly around the room, George said, "There's nobody else here."

"No, _she _is here – upstairs," Fred replied quietly, pointing at the girl's staircase. "She just came down here in her bloody pyjamas, George. Pyjamas!" Fred slumped back down again and sighed. "I'm going crazy."

George couldn't help but smile at his distraught twin, a cheeky grin creeping on his face. "You are officially nuts, Fred."

"You're telling me?" Fred grumbled. He had told George a while ago about the feelings he was harbouring for Hermione, and George, for all of his teasing, had kept it totally confidential. It was between them, and nobody was going to find out until Fred decided what he was going to do.

George was about to reply, when the creak of stairs from behind the couch made him look up, and he saw Hermione's hair above the top rail. "She's coming," George mouthed, before he casually threw one leg over the other and reclined.

Fred sat up a bit, and ran a hand through his hair (as though she would even notice that he'd brushed it that morning), and tried to appear normal. Hermione had reached the bottom of the staircase and she appeared in the edge of his vision, and she said, "Oh, hello George. Have a nice sleep?"

"Not bad," he said with a smile. "I was woken up by that thunderstorm, but other than that – "

"Thunderstorm?" she repeated, interrupting, before she frowned. "That probably explains why I'm feeling tired." She looked up and locked eyes with Fred, and then said, "Are you alright Fred? You look quite pale."

Fred nodded hurriedly. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Hermione looked a little worried, but let it go. "Alright. I'll be down in the hall – see you in a bit."

George gave her a small wave, and watched her go out of the portrait hall, and then he swung his head towards Fred and wiggled his eyebrows. "Thunderstorm keeping her up all night, eh?"

"Shut up," Fred sighed. "I – I was in her room last night, but –"

"But what?" George saw that his brother was worried, and his jokes disappeared. "What happened, Fred?" he said insistently, leaning forward, watching as his brother's eyes shimmered, and then –

A tear slipped from Fred's eye, rolling slowly down his freckled cheek. "I tampered with her memory," he whispered, voice shaking. "I – the thunder woke her, and she saw me, and – I told her I was there to make sure she was okay. I – I kissed her, and she stopped me, and I realised that – I would lose her because of what I had done. So I erased the memory." Fred shook his head, and sniffed. "I can't believe I did that. I feel awful."

George hadn't seen his brother so devastated, but doing something like that to the girl he adored was obviously taking a toll. George reached out, and placed his hand on Fred's shoulder. "It's okay, Fred," he said, "It was an accident. You panicked. It doesn't have to happen again. It'll be okay, and – and she'll like you if you give her a chance to. Okay?"

Fred looked up at his brother, and he nodded, head drooping, as he wiped away the tears.

George managed a grim smile, and they waited for a few minutes for Fred to clean himself up, and then they went down to the great hall for breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

**Existentialism – Chapter Four**

_Fred/Hermione_

Fred told himself that night that he would be going to see Hermione. But he wasn't sure whether it was his weakness or his strength that made him go. He was too weak to go a night without staying, or he was too strong to stay in his bed and not see her.

He could never tell which it was.

But he had made up his mind that day, after seeing her wandering around the grounds with Ron and Harry, and he had seen her wearing those skinny jeans which clung to the gentle curves of her hips and legs, and he had decided that he would give her a choice. He would ask her on a date, and if she said no then they could still be friends. That was what was going to happen.

It was eleven o'clock when he arrived in Hermione's room, and she was still awake reading. She looked up when Fred rapped his knuckles on the door which was left ajar, and she blinked in surprise. "Um, hello Fred?"

"Hi," he replied with a slight grin. "Can I come in?"

Hermione paused, a little bemused, but she nodded. "Sure."

Fred sat himself at the edge of her bed, not too far away but not too close to her either. He asked her, "How are you going?"

"Pretty tired," she said, but she glanced at her novel. "That said, I can't put this book down."

"You never can," Fred teased, and his eyes drank in the smile on her face and the sparkle in her eye.

"So what brings you here?" she said, placing her bookmark in the page and putting the book down on the bed.

Fred opened his mouth to speak but he realised that though he knew what he was intending to do, he didn't have an idea of what he was supposed to say. Struggling for a moment, he finally managed to say, "Look, Hermione – I've known you for five years now, right?"

"I suppose you have."

"And we spend holidays together."

"Yes, we do."

"And we eat dinner together, and we hang out at Hogsmeade, and we wait for you at Flourish and Blott's when you take half an hour to choose a new book –"

"Yes, yes, alright," Hermione said, trying to be angry but not doing a very good job, because Fred could see a smile playing on her lips. "What's your point?"

Fred took a breath, and he said bluntly, "I like you."

"I like you too."

"No, Hermione," Fred sighed, "I – _like _you. I want to hold your hand and hug you and kiss you."

Hermione stared at him, her big brown eyes drawing him in, and then she frowned and shook her head. "No, Fred, you don't like me," she said. "You like pretty girls, or girls who play Quidditch. Or both."

"But Hermione, you're pretty," Fred insisted, shifting a little closer. "Really, you are."

"You couldn't be with me, Fred," Hermione sighed as she tugged on a lock of her hair. "Everybody would tease you. I'm – I'm a pasty, awkward, frizzy-haired, nerdy bookworm girl who –"

Fred had reached up and placed a gentle finger on Hermione's soft pink lips, and he said, "Stop. Stop degrading yourself. Can't you see that I don't care what other people think?" Fred traced his fingertips across the smooth skin of her cheek, down to her neck. "I only want to be with you, to make you feel special. Make you smile."

Hermione frowned, and then Fred saw a tiny tear escape from the corner of her eye. She quickly brushed it away, but he had already seen it.

"Oh, Hermione, I – I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to –"

Hermione shook her head and she laughed shakily. "Don't apologise Fred. I'm just – not used to being flattered."

"It's not flattery," he said quietly. "It's honesty. That's all."

Hermione looked up at him, and as another tear slowly slid from her eye, Fred leaned forward and gently kissed her on the cheek, kissing her tears away. He slowly moved back, longing to dart in towards her and capture her lips, but resisting.

And then, she said, voice trembling, "I – I'm sorry Fred. I can't. I –"

A moment later, there was a soft light and a gentle whisper. "_Repens oblivio._"

Hermione blinked, and then she said with a gentle smile, "Sorry, Fred, what were you saying? I – I'm sorry. I'm pretty tired."

Fred managed a smile, and he said, voice tight, "I was just asking about your book. But, hey, you get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione gently smiled at him, and then she placed her book on the bedside table and slid down beneath her covers, and Fred turned the light off as he left.

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><p>He managed to stay calm all the way to his dormitory – but as soon as he had shut the door, he threw himself against it, throwing his fists against the wooden door and banging his head against the hard surface as an angry snarl tore from his throat.<p>

"Flaming hell, Fred!" George cried out. "Will you give it a rest?"

Fred turned around and glared at his brother. "She still doesn't like me."

"It has been _one day_," George said with a sigh. "You can't expect her to change so soon. I told you going there was a bad idea, now you've ruined it for good."

Fred looked away from his brother and stared at the floor. George watched his twin wander across to his bed, and then he realised what had happened, without Fred having to tell him.

"Oh, you didn't," George breathed, and he knew when Fred did not respond that yes, yes he had. "You – you tampered with her memory _AGAIN_?" He exclaimed, and Fred flipped over where he lay with hands outstretched to tell his brother to keep it down.

"Not so loud!" Fred hissed. "Yes, okay, I did. But I know for sure now that she doesn't want to be with me. She doesn't like me enough to forget about her own insecurities and she never will."

George watched as his brother tumbled back into bed, and then watched as Fred forced himself to breathe steadily, and George sighed. He didn't know what to do, and there was no way in hell Fred had any idea what he was doing.

It was all such a mess.


	5. Chapter 5

**Existentialism – Chapter Five**

_Fred/Hermione_

The lake shore was one of her favourite places to go. She liked sitting on the rocks and reading, just relaxing and having some time for herself. Some other girls might think that doing their hair or gossiping or going shopping was 'me' time, but for Hermione a good book and a quiet place to sit was enough to satisfy her.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as a small whisper of wind brushed it across her eyes. It was a perfect Spring day, not too hot to sit out in the sun and not too cold that she had to bundle herself up to leave the castle. Ginny and the boys were all at Quidditch training – there was a match on the first weekend of next term, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It was pretty important – the first game of the season.

And as it was the holidays, Hermione didn't have to spend all of her free time studying or trying to avoid Umbridge or trying to deal with Harry's new found angst. So she had brought her new book down to the rocks by the Black Lake, and had planned on sitting there to read it. Her mother had sent it to her – she often sent her muggle fiction, because she knew how much Hermione loved to read, even if it was just a light, simple muggle book. Even Hermione needed some entertainment now and then.

That had been the plan – to sit there and read. But as soon as Hermione started thinking about Quidditch, she started thinking about Fred. She shook her head, looking away from the words on the page as she realised what she was doing. Thinking about _Fred_? That had never happened before. Hermione had only just begun to feel something more than friendship for Ron over the summer but now she was sitting on the rock, thinking about Fred.

Thinking about Fred in a Quidditch uniform. Or maybe out of it…

Hermione blushed. Why was she thinking about Fred that way? And for that matter, why not George? They were twins, after all. She frowned, and she rubbed at her temples. She was confusing herself. Hermione let out a sigh, and she shut her book, putting it in her bag before she slid off the rock, and began to make her way over to the Quidditch pitch.

Because, like any other situation in which Hermione was confused or unsure of what to do, she planned on doing some study. She was going to go study Fred, to try to figure out what it was about him that had her mind such a mess. She hadn't ever seen him like that before and she sure as hell wasn't going to start without a good reason.

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><p>Fred could feel trickles of sweat running down his back, across his skin, and he pulled his broomstick up to pause for a moment. They had been practicing the manoeuvres for almost an hour now. Harry was the new captain of the team, now that Oliver was finished school, and even though Harry was not nearly as bitter and twisted as Oliver was about winning and losing, he sure was severe when it came to physical fitness. Being a seeker was like being a sprinter – he moved quickly from point A to point B. For the beaters and chasers, though, it was like running a marathon. And Harry was getting them running so many marathons that morning that Fred felt like he was dying.<p>

"For Merlin's sake, Harry," George called out, gasping for breath. "You make us do another suicide lap again and I will hit _you _with the damn bludger!"

"Seconded!" Fred shouted, and was about to turn around when he thought he saw Hermione in the stands. He had a double take, thinking _surely not_, but yes, there she was. Sitting there, watching, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

And she was looking at him, with an intense frown on her face that Fred only ever saw when she was trying to make sense of something, like deciphering runes in her homework. He felt a smile creep onto his face, happiness coming to him just knowing she was nearby, and he waved at her casually.

Her frown faded momentarily as she smiled, and waved back. Fred hesitated, staring at her for a moment, before he realised it was a little bit odd for him to just be looking at her. He turned, and flew over to where the others were hovering around Harry, who was looking at the charts and notes he had on his clipboard.

"Right, so I was going to get you guys to do some strength building exercises this afternoon –"

The chorus of groans from the worn Gryffindors made Harry laugh. "Yes, I gathered that much myself. I figure we can work on that some other time. But you know, if you feel like working out a bit to improve your fitness – oh come on guys, it's for the team!"

"If I'm going to be doing any extra working out," George said, "I will be doing it for my own benefit." He glanced over at Katie Bell and winked. "That's right, ladies, I do work out."

"Shove off, George," Katie said, rolling her eyes, as Harry announced their training over for the day. Fred flew over to the side of the pitch, before he and George simultaneously jumped from their brooms and made their way over to the shed.

Fred glanced over his shoulder to where Hermione was still sitting in the stands. "Hey, George," he muttered to his brother, "How long has Hermione been sitting there?"

George looked over to where she was sitting, and he shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't see her there."

"Isn't Ron usually the one who watches us train?"

"Yeah, but it's the holidays. Ron is asleep." George looked at his brother and saw the troubled look on his face. "Look, Fred, don't think too much on it. She was probably bored. Don't – don't get yourself in a mess."

"Any more of a mess, you mean," Fred sighed. "But yeah, okay. I'll forget it."


	6. Chapter 6

I am so very sorry for how long this took! I got caught up writing some of my other stuff and I totally forgot I was writing this. But it's okay, I've remembered now! Thanks for reading :D

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><p><strong>Existentialism – Chapter Six<strong>

_Fred/Hermione_

After lunch that day, Ron invited Fred to play wizard's chess. Fred wasn't as good as Ron but he did like to play chess. He especially liked watching the Bishops beat the daylights out of each other. That was always fun. Ron told him off for it but he had to admit it was pretty funny.

They had some bottles of butter beer and pumpkin fizzes they had bought from Hogsmeade on their last trip, and George was busy flirting with Katie while Ron and Fred battled it out on the chessboard. Harry was reading a book Dumbledore had given him – 'light reading', he called it, but it looked to Fred like one of those books you wouldn't find in a school library. Something most kids wouldn't read.

But as usual, it was none of his business.

Fred had been winning chess, but he became really distracted when Hermione came in from her usual afternoon walk, saying it had been too windy outside as she pulled her scarf from her neck and flicked her messy, tangled hair back from her face, shrugging off her coat as she looked around the room where not much was going on.

She dumped her things on the couch, sitting beside Ron, as she then said, "Can I play?"

Ron glanced at her with a strange look, and said, "Do you even know how to play chess?"

She shrugged. "Not really. We used to play scrabble at my house."

"I'm going to pretend I know what that is," said Fred, flashing her a quick smile as he sent a pawn across the board. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lingered on him for a moment, before turning back to Ron.

"No," he replied. "It's – complicated. You wouldn't like it."

"I'm bored," she said. "Besides, I should learn at some stage. You told me it was a life skill."

Ron sighed, and said absent-mindedly, "Queen to E-seven – and checkmate." He turned back to Hermione, and said, "I'm not going to teach you how to play."

She looked a little put down, but before she could open her lips to begin arguing with the younger Weasley brother, Fred blurted out, "I'll teach you."

Hermione's warm eyes turned to look at him hopefully. "Really?"

Fred smiled. "Sure. Sit yourself down, make yourself comfortable. Ron, you can bugger off."

She watched as Fred fixed the little figures with a quick spell, and set them all up again on the board. To be perfectly honest, Hermione wasn't quite sure why playing chess with Fred had caught her fancy. She had never been at all concerned about not knowing how to play, she was perfectly happy to let the boys play their board games.

Perhaps, she thought, it wasn't so much about the chess, but more about Fred. She blinked away the thought. No, she forced herself to think. It's about the game.

"Okay," Fred said, as he finished setting up the little figurines. "The idea is to capture the king. That's this guy here," he said, picking up the king on his side, as Hermione looked at her own. "Each different chessman has a different way of moving. Pawns can only move forward, twice on the first move and once every other move, and they can capture somebody diagonally – like, for example," he moved a knight from her side onto the board, and showed her how the pawn worked.

Hermione was fairly confused as he went on to explain all the other rules, but once they started to play she found it easier. Fred helped her out, telling her the best way to start and how to capture the opponent's chessmen. The little chessmen themselves sometimes shouted out helpful information to her, and she couldn't help but smile. It was fun.

At one point, she went to move a broken chessman from the board and Fred moved at the same time, and their hands touched as they reached for the shattered figure. Hermione didn't move her hand away at first, and neither did Fred. His hand lingered against hers, fingers brushing her skin – and then Hermione suddenly blushed and pulled her hand away.

"Sorry," she said, trying to force the redness away from her cheeks.

Fred simply smiled, and said, "That's okay."

Hermione felt stupid. Of course Fred didn't like her, he was just being nice. And he probably thought it was hilarious she was acting so stupid, he'd probably tell George and Ron later on, and when Ron found out she was blushing from a simple touch of skin he would never let her hear the end of it…

"You're cute when you blush."

The softly spoken words broke through her inner monologue and for a moment Hermione thought she had imagined it. But she glanced up and caught Fred's sky blue eyes, and he was smiling at her, a lazy half-smile which made her feel a little bit breathless.

"You – you really think so?" she asked, knowing she shouldn't be smiling but unable to resist the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

"Yeah," Fred replied, leaning on his hand as he stared at her. "I think so. You're pretty cute in general."

Hermione let out a small, awkward laugh, and she said as she stared down at her hands, "That's a compliment I never thought I'd hear from you."

"I don't know why you're so surprised," he said. "We spend so much time together, and you're brilliant. You're pretty, and you're clever, and you're sharp as a tack." Hermione looked back up and Fred smiled at her as he said, "It's pretty hard for a guy to not be attracted to you, Hermione."

"Attracted to me?" she repeated a little incoherently before she blinked, and she cleared her throat. "Oh, I – you are – what?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Alright, sharp as a tack except for when you're trying to flirt." He laughed as she blushed again, and then he said, "Don't worry about it. I didn't expect you to feel the same way for me. I just wanted you to know."

Hermione blinked, staring at him as the smile became more and more forced, and she realised she had missed a chance when Fred said, "Bishop to D-five."


	7. Chapter 7

**Existentialism – Chapter Seven**

_Fred/Hermione_

It was a short while later and after a few more rounds of chess (in which Hermione was quite sure Fred had let her win the second time) and they were well into the third round when Seamus and Ron began to fight about somebody having rigged the Exploding Snap cards.

Apart from the game having already been making enough noise, Seamus lost for the fourth time in a row and he demanded Ron show him the cards to make sure they hadn't been tampered with. Ron's pride wouldn't let him deal with the situation maturely, as always, and he insisted that Seamus was in fact just crap at the game and should go back to his toy broomstick. The result was a small fist fight and lots of yelling and shouting from the small group, apart from Harry who was sitting in the corner looking miserable.

Hermione frowned at the commotion, and she didn't realise Fred had moved until he touched her elbow and said quietly, "Wanna go for a walk?"

Hermione nodded almost immediately, following Fred towards the exit and feeling quite special when he held open the portrait for her and made an elegant bowing motion. Even if it was unnecessary and silly, it made her smile, and that was all that mattered, really.

They walked, wandered aimlessly about the empty castle. Fred insisted they go without destination to ensure maximum exploration and though Hermione was a little bemused by the idea they did find quite a few things. A suit of armour full of purple mice, a portrait of a gnome wearing a tutu and a broomstick sweeping its way up the walls were but a few of the treasures they had come across by the time they had reached the Astronomy Tower.

"It's nice up here," said Fred.

"I never cared much for Astronomy," said Hermione, at the same time. They glanced at each other and Hermione smiled, a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't suppose you want to talk about Astronomy anyway."

"I never took the subject," he shrugged. "I only like it up here because it's high up."

"You're not afraid of heights?"

He grinned at her. "Do you think I'd be so good at Quidditch if I was?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "Alright, no need to be like that," she said. "But in all seriousness, do you have anything which scares you?"

Fred leaned against the rail of the tower, staring out to the cloudy sky for a moment as he thought. Hermione couldn't help but notice the structure of his jaw line, the shape of his nose, the way the sunlight from behind the clouds changed his eyes to an even softer blue and seemed to set his hair alight.

And she could see the way his long sleeved shirt clung to his torso and she could see the outline of his arms, the tendons in his neck and the soft, smooth expanse of ochre skin there. And her eyes were drawn back, as always, to the elegant and long-fingered hands, leaning on the rail, the veins running under the skin and the freckles sitting on top, and she wanted to reach out and entwine her fingers with his just to see how it felt.

Suddenly realising that she had been admiring, no, actually _studying _all of the parts of Fred Weasley she admired, Hermione felt blood rush to her cheeks and she quickly turned to look out at the black lake so her hair could cover her cheeks, and she willed her stomach to return from where it had dropped onto the floor.

"I think – I'm afraid of getting things wrong," he said, and Hermione had almost forgotten what she had asked him before she tried to figure out what his answer actually meant.

"But you don't like school work," she said, confused. "And you always break rules. You blow things up all the time in potions on purpose, I know you do, I –"

"No, not those sort of things," said Fred, with a small, almost shy, smile. "We're not all fantastic students like you. No, I mean like family and friends and – relationships. I'm always afraid I'm going to do or say the wrong thing and mess it up for good. Because everything you do makes a difference and – I hate to say it, but George has always been better at knowing what to say. I follow along a lot of the time and I'm alright now but he's always been better at improvising when things go wrong. I have a tendency to get panicked."

Hermione, quite sure her own flustered moment had passed, turned back to Fred and said quietly after having listened to his explanation, "I can understand that, sort of. I don't get really worried but there is always a sort of – delicate balance, especially with Harry."

"But when you say something wrong, it could stay wrong forever. Do you know what I mean?" he said, trying to find the words to explain.

"Yes, but Fred what if you say something right and it stays right forever?"

Hermione watched as he turned towards her and said with a quiet voice she hadn't ever heard before, "Either way, you can't change it."

As he stared at her and she stared back, Hermione suddenly felt a gust of wind rush through her sweater, and she knew it was a real chill because it played with their hair, too. She shivered a little violently, not having worn enough layers because it had been warmer earlier in the day.

Fred's eyes suddenly lit up, and he said, "Right, perfect example. You're cold, and you need to get warmer. What should I do? Should I offer you my jacket?"

"You don't have a jacket," Hermione said, a small smile playing on her lips. "But if you did, hypothetically speaking, I would be very grateful."

"So we cannot exchange items of clothing, perhaps I could hold you," said Fred, that familiar cheeky tone in his voice and twinkle in his eye. "But that would have a totally different impact, it might be far too romantic for you. Do you see what I mean? My actions have different meanings. I'm worried I will send the wrong message."

"You worry too much, Fred," Hermione said, looking back up to him.

What happened next didn't occur because Hermione was feeling particularly brave or stupid that day, but it was because it felt right, it felt comfortable, and she had an idea of the message Fred wanted to send, the impact he wanted to have – or rather, the impact she wanted him to have. She stepped towards him and she gently moved so she was right beside him, and after a small moment of hesitation, Fred's hand moved to wrap around her and hold her close.

She heard him sigh, his warm breath touching her hair and he said in a quiet murmur, "I don't know, now – I can't figure it out. I don't know if this is me changing the way you see me or you changing how I see you, or you taking action that I won't because of what I can't do because I'm too worried you don't think of me that way..."

Hermione could hardly make sense of his words, but she caught the last part and she said a little defiantly, "How could you know what I think of you?" When Fred did not respond, she finally reached out and entwined her fingers with his, and she sighed as they seemed to fit perfectly. His hands were smooth and careful, graceful, the right size.

"Everything we do makes a difference," Fred spoke quietly, before he pressed his cheek to her hair and Hermione felt his body relax against hers.

"Yes, but that's okay."

They didn't do anything else, and Hermione was quite happy to just be there with Fred and be held and later on she quietly thanked him for teaching him how to play chess and he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and they smiled at each other, before they walked back to the common room, hands still entwined.


End file.
